


Like Nobody's Watching (The "Swing Time" Remix)

by Syrena_of_the_lake



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Dancing, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 13:04:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4222731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrena_of_the_lake/pseuds/Syrena_of_the_lake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the last rehearsal before Talent Night, and now they're dancing around each other even when the music stops.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Nobody's Watching (The "Swing Time" Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kelly_chambliss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelly_chambliss/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Swing Time](https://archiveofourown.org/works/532595) by [kelly_chambliss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelly_chambliss/pseuds/kelly_chambliss). 
  * In response to a prompt by [kelly_chambliss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelly_chambliss/pseuds/kelly_chambliss) in the [remixmadness2015](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/remixmadness2015) collection. 



> I read this piece a couple years ago and loved everything - the dialogue, the visuals, the snappy comebacks - and I didn't want it to end. So here's one more dance...

"But it's our last rehearsal!" protested Tom.

Kathryn refused to budge. "Last night was our last rehearsal," she pointed out and stopped, crossing her arms defensively. She was _not_ going to bring up their… lapse in decorum. They had been carried away with the music, exhausted beyond the point of rational thought. That was all. And it was _not_ open for discussion.

Thank the stars, Tom seemed to feel the same way.

"Think of it as a dress rehearsal," he said instead. The man was nothing if not persistent, she had to give him that.

Her resolve weakening, Kathryn cast about for another excuse. "But… the cargo bay?"

Tom made a face. "I know, the acoustics suck, but the Holodeck was booked solid."

"I was not referring to the acoustics, Thomas. There's a little matter of _privacy_."

He flashed a disarming grin. "I brought a curtain for you to change behind, if that's what you're worried about."

Stars, that hadn't even occurred to her.

"Unless it's large enough for the entire cargo bay, I'll pass," she said, infusing her voice with every ounce of disapproval she could muster. "Or were you just going to drape it over Seven's alcove?"

Tom waved a dismissive hand. "Seven won't be back for hours. I arranged it all with her earlier – she's babysitting Naomi while Sam and Chell iron out the kinks in their juggling act. Something about flaming onions. I didn't want to ask."

" _Tom_ –"

His gaze locked with hers, the blue of his eyes startlingly intense. "I'll put a lock on the door," he promised, his voice low. "No one will see."

And what in the galaxy did he mean by _that_?

"After all," he said with a grin, "I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise! So whaddaya say, Captain? Shall we dance?"

* * *

Two hours later, they sprawled on the cool floor of the cargo bay, exhausted. "If I didn't know better," Kathryn mused idly, "I'd swear you planned this from the start."

"The drawing was random," Tom reminded her. "Or do you think Neelix rigged the hat?"

Kathryn hummed doubtfully.

"Besides, you should be thanking your lucky stars you're not juggling flaming onions with Chell."

 Kathryn snorted. "And what would you have done if I weren't your partner? Would you have Chell slide down your leg?"

Tom groaned. "I'll never get _that_ image out of my head. Thanks a lot." Kathryn smirked. "But seriously," he continued, "do you really think I'd do this dance with anyone else?"

"I don't know," she said evenly. "Would you?" She noted that her heart was still beating too fast. Her pulse really should have slowed down by now.

Tom propped himself up on one elbow. "Dance? Maybe. But it would probably be tap dance. Or maybe a circus act. High-wire, that sort of thing."

"Don't you get tired of doing that?" Kathryn asked him before she could think better of it.

Tom closed his eyes. "All the time." For the first time that night, he sounded as tired as she felt. "And what about you?"

Kathryn looked at him quizzically.

"I thought you might not go for the idea of a dance at all," he explained.

"Because I'd have to give up the lead? It's easier than I thought it would be," she confessed.

Tom's answer was so long in coming that she almost thought he'd fallen asleep. "Maybe you just needed the right partner."

"Maybe," she said softly. Her chest felt tight. Clearly she wasn't hydrated enough.

"We've got time for one more dance," Tom reminded her.

Kathryn knew they didn't need to – they'd already mastered the steps. Hell, they probably _shouldn't_. But she couldn't summon the will to tell him no. "One more," she said.

* * *

When Seven commed half an hour later to request the return of her cargo bay, they had already changed back into their uniforms. "I'll almost miss these rehearsals," commented Kathryn as she rubbed her sore shoulder. "Ouch.  _Almost_ ," she stressed.

Tom's face, for once, was hard to read. "Maybe we could do it again sometime." At her look of abject horror, he laughed. "Not the mad schedule or the blisters. Or the costumes, though I kinda like yours. I meant just – dance," he finished hurriedly as her eyes narrowed.

Kathryn let him sweat a minute. "Maybe," she finally allowed, her face relaxing into a smile. "I'd likely have to quit coffee to save enough rations for the shoes, though."

He shrugged. "You could always dance barefoot. On the beach, under the stars, in a bikini that shows off your–"

" _Tom_!"

"–pips."

Kathryn couldn't help it. She laughed out loud, which set Tom off in turn. And the expression on Seven's face when she walked in only made them laugh harder.

Seven was even more efficient than usual in ushering them out the door, and they found themselves in the corridor staring at each other and trying to stifle lingering giggles.

Kathryn cast about for something to say, some gracious way to end the evening without promising too much, without pushing him away, and for heaven's sake without referring to last night–

But Tom took the lead. "Don't break a leg before tomorrow, now," he warned her with a smile.

"Was that all I had to do to get out of this? Now he tells me." She gave him a crooked smile, adding "Thank you, Tom."

Startled, he blinked at her. "For what?"

For the dance, for the centuries-old tune that was now stuck in her head, for helping her remember what it felt like to be weightless and lightheaded and utterly engrossed in something that had nothing whatsoever to do with duty… "For the shoes," she said.

His answering smile was brighter than the spotlight, and she had the feeling that – somehow – he understood.


End file.
